


The Flogging of the Alchemist

by Dorkinatrix



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Capital Punishment, Dark, Flogging, Hurt/Comfort, Incarcerated Varian (Disney), Sad Varian (Disney), Torture, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorkinatrix/pseuds/Dorkinatrix
Summary: Varian is publicly flogged and imprisoned, after committing treason against the kingdom of Corona.  Broken and humiliated, he turns to his bunk mate, Andrew, for comfort.  Together, the two men plot their revenge and escape.
Relationships: Cassandra/Varian (Disney: Tangled), Varian (Disney) & Other(s)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

A guard wearing a black executioner’s hood escorted the culprit out of the back of the chariot. 

The culprit’s appearance was not what many in the people in the crowd had been expecting. He was not a tall, intimidating dark sorcerer, but rather, a short, shrimpy, baby-faced man with shaggy black hair, bucked teeth, and big, round blue eyes. Probably the lad was in his late teens or early twenties. He was trying to scowl villainously and appear tough in front of these jeering spectators, but the routine was very unconvincing. His meek slouch, trembling shoulders, and glossy, wet eyes, betrayed his true nature.

The lad, whom the masked guard introduced to the crowd as “Varian,” wore heavy irons around his wrists and ankles. He winced and bit his lower lip with bucked teeth as his shirt was removed, revealing his skinny, hairless chest and shrimpy noodle arms to the hostile spectators. Varian looked very vulnerable and terrified in this state. Coronans watched with confusion and disbelief as this strikingly non-threatening-looking lad was chained to the pole at the center of the square, and his crimes against the kingdom were recited. 

“This man stands accused of using dark magic—” one of the guards read off of an official-looking scroll

“Science,” Varian corrected him bitterly from behind a curtain of dark hair, as his wrists were painfully bound to the post. 

“Shut up,” the guard said with some annoyance as he continued to read from the scroll, “of using dark magic against the kingdom of Corona, and against the royal family. He is guilty of enchanting the royal family, their entourage, and dozens of castle staff, with an evil elixir of madness. He is guilty of using a transmogrification potion on a raccoon and setting it loose upon Corona, leaving several dozen palace guards critically wounded. He is guilty of laying siege to the kingdom with an army of gargantuan clay golems, which wrought millions of gold pieces worth of property damage upon your homes and businesses. He is guilty of breaking into the palace vaults and stealing the sun drop flower, this kingdom’s most powerful magical artifact. He is guilty of kidnapping and attempted murder of our Queen. And finally, he is guilty of the attempted murder of Princess Rapunzel and her lady in waiting. As punishment these wicked and treasonous acts, The dark sorcerer, Varian, is sentenced to receive forty lashes on the bare back, followed by a lifetime imprisonment the castle dungeons.”

Hearing this, Varian choked back a shutter. His large, round eyes, glistened with moisture, so he shut them tightly and whimpered, attempting to quell the impending flow of tears. His face burned with shame as the villagers booed him, and aimed a few rocks and rotten tomatoes at his head. 

“It’s not fair!” Varian thought silently as the guard in the executioner’s hood readied his whip, “They’re trying to vilify me! But I’m in the right here! Sure, what I did was bad, but I did what I had to do! I did what she MADE me do with her callous indifference toward her subjects! She promised to help me and I trusted her like a fool! As if the princess would have time to come rescue my father, when she’s got yet ANOTHER party to plan!” 

The guard cracked his whip and its tail carved a deep, gushing slice in Varian’s pale shoulder blade. Varian let out a squeaky, high-pitched scream and tears rolled down his face. He sniffled and wept, as he braced himself against the post, anticipating the next brutal blow with abject misery. 

Even through the roar of the chattering crowd, he could hear the whoosh of the guard’s whip, slicing through the air. He flinched and shut his eyes tight, bracing himself for the fresh flood of pain. Then, he screamed again as a second dripping lash wound was inflicted upon him by the guard, who didn’t seem to be holding back, despite Varian’s diminutive frame and audible weeping. 

“This seems wrong,” croaked an old woman who stood in the crowd, “Why, that cutie-pie doesn’t look like he could show up late to dinner, let alone let unleash an army of stone golems upon this kingdom.”

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” another villager contradicted as she aimed a spoiled head of cabbage at Varian’s face and missed badly, “Your golems smashed up my bake shop, and ruined my business, you evil scoundrel!”

Hearing this, Varian could not help but feel guilty and deeply ashamed. His actions had been motivated by love for his imperiled father, and by hatred for a heartless monarchy that could so callously stand by and do nothing while its peasant’s suffered. Through the haze of his intense emotions, he had not considered the larger repercussions that these actions would have upon ordinary citizens and innocent bystanders. The whip struck Varian’s back again and these thoughts were forcibly driven from his mind. He screamed in pain, it was a desperate, pride-less scream that pleaded mercy. 

As the vicious flogging continued, Varian grew dizzy and light headed from blood loss. He could feel his wounds leaking over what little unbroken skin remained. The blood stained his overalls and his knees buckled as he slid down the pole. The word spun around him, and he felt as though he were about to throw up. He now lacked the energy to scream, he merely cried and collapsed onto his knees, even as the ropes that bound his arms to the post chaffed his wrists painfully. The pain of the ropes was almost nothing compared with the searing agony in his flayed back. 

“That poor kid,” the old woman in the crowd said, “If they keep this up, they’re going to kill him.”

“Ha, look at him cry like a baby! A death sentence would be what he deserves!” snarled the woman with the smashed bake shop. 

The guard whacked Varian across his narrow shoulders with the whip, one final time, causing him to let out a hurt squeak, followed by a trembling sob. He was barely aware of what was happening, as the guard’s untied him from the post and carried his trembling body back to the barred carriage cart. 

As he was tossed back into the carriage, Varian looked up, through squinting, blurry, tear-filled eyes. He could see the king staring down at him with a look that was part disgust and part indifferent disdain.

“My kind daughter has asked me to show you mercy,” the king said.

“Mercy!” Varian squeaked angrily, “How is THIS mercy!”

“It is mercy because you have threatened to crush my darling wife in the palm of your massive hell beast, and I am sparing your worthless life. Understand, that you would have been hanged if not for my daughter’s virtue and gentile sensibilities,” the king said.

“I…I wasn’t going to k-kill her….I was just bluffing,” Varian sniffled pleadingly. 

“You’ll be taken to a physician, Varian. And he will assess your health to ensure that you don’t die from your injuries. Understand that this too is a mercy,” the king said just as the barred doors were slammed shut, locking Varian into the carriage. 

Filled with hatred and rage, Varian wept, and hugged himself. He lay on his stomach, with his face pressed against the floor of the carriage, and a burning pain crisscrossing his shredded back meat. With only the thought of growing old in a castle dungeon to comfort him, Varian felt his heart break into a million little tiny pieces. 

As the carriage rolled onward to its destination, Varian thought of his father, forgotten and alone, forever encased in a tomb of enchanted amber. Then, he thought of Cassandra, on the day of the science fair, when she had so harshly rebuked his advances. His heart had broken on that day too, and remembering just how bad it had hurt, made him wish for a moment that he had crushed Cassandra in the palm of his giant robot, on that fateful day when he had been presented with the opportunity. 

“No…,” Varian muttered to himself, shaking his head vigorously, “I…I’m not a bad guy. I’m not bad! THEY’RE bad! And they’re not going to get away with h-hurting me like this either! I’ll make them pay!”


	2. Chapter 2

Varian was taken to the village physician’s office. Here the injuries from his flogging were treated and bandaged. The physician disinfected Varian’s lashes, and, in places, stitched them closed, but, despite Varian’s groggy, meek pleas, he was given no medication to kill the pain. This was a punishment for crimes against the kingdom after all, not an accidental injury. So, unlike the many times when he had tripped over his own clumsy feet or hurt himself with one of his own volatile inventions, he received no numbing ointment, no ice, no sleeping potion, no pat on the head, and no comforting word. The physician worked through a cold silence, from time to time, pausing to glance out the window at the rubble left from the destruction that Varian’s mutant raccoon had wrought. 

To Varian, this felt like yet another betrayal. He was prone to hurting himself a lot and the physician had been a presence in his life since he was a small boy, fiddling with his first ever chemistry set. He recalled the first time that he had hurt himself practicing alchemy. He had been about seven-years-old and one of his test tubes had exploded into glass shards, cutting his small hands. He had cried, of course, and his father had carried him to this same physician’s office, where the kindly physician had given him a hug and a big, swirly lollipop to chew on, while glass shards were plucked out of his tiny fingers with metal pliers. 

Back in the present day, Varian lay face-down on the physician’s table; his ankles bound together by heavy irons. His misery was being witnessed by two castle guards, who had been charged with surveilling him to prevent his escape. 

“This really hurts a lot…,” Varian sniffled, looking up at the once kindly physician with wet, pleading eyes as the man silently stitched closed a deep gash on one of his shoulders. Feeling, angry and even more betrayed by the kingdom than ever before, Varian did not know why he had bothered to utter such a pathetic and obvious statement. Perhaps he had been trying to impress upon the physician that, even though he was technically a man now, in his heart, he was still just a hurt, scared kid. 

The physician finished his work in silence, and sent Varian on his way, without speaking a single word to him. The guards escorted Varian back to the barred carriage cart, and he was ridden back to the castle dungeon.


	3. Chapter 3

Back in the castle dungeon, Varian collapsed onto one of the meager beds, built into the walls of the small cell. The pain left from his recent whipping was still a fresh, intense agony, made even more potent by the knowledge that he would most likely never leave this wretched cell again. 

Varian cried as his pictured his father, still encased in a prison of enchanted amber. Surely the man would have been ashamed of him for hurting so many innocent bystanders, during his rampage against Corona’s oppressive monarchy.

“No, I’m not the bad guy here,” Varian thought inwardly, while entombed in the cold silence of his dark cell, “I had nothing but good intentions…and it’s unfortunate what had to happen to so many innocent bystanders…but casualties of war are inevitable. And she left me no other choice. My cause is just. Still…”

He sniffled again, and then, said to himself out loud in a tear-choked, childish whine: “I miss my daddy and my raccoon.”

“Oh, you do, huh kid?” a voice from the dark cell commented nonchalantly. 

Realizing for the first time that he was not alone in the cell, Varian blushed furiously and attempted damage control: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so pathetic…it’s just that…”

“You’re hurt. I get it. No need to apologize,” the voice replied. 

Varian sat up slowly, and hunched over, scowling defensively and hugging himself in a brooding, protective way. It was cold in this cell, and Varian was not very pleased to discover that he would be sharing it with another criminal. 

As Varian’s cellmate stepped into the light, he was revealed to be a tall, muscular man in his twenties or thirties, with hollow cheeks and long, thick, dark brown hair. 

“I’m Andrew,” the man introduced himself, and seeing how Varian shark away from him as he approached, he added, “There’s no need to be afraid of me. I’m not a killer or anything. I’m a proud Saporian separatist, wrongly imprisoned for my patriotism.” 

Varian pouted sullenly and refused to respond. 

Andrew attempted to coax a reply out of the smaller man by adding: “And you must be that evil wizard that everyone’s been talking about.”

“I’m not a wizard,” Varian corrected sullenly, “I’m an alchemist. What I do is not magic, It’s science.”

“You’re an evil scientist, then,” Andrew corrected himself. 

“No, I’m a regular scientist,” Varian corrected with some annoyance. 

“Right, right. Of course, of course,” Andrew said, “Still, I’ve gotta’ say. I’m pretty impressed, kid. You really gave Corona a run for its money.”

“Heh. Thanks,” Varian said, with a slight smile. He sniffled and wiped the tears off of his face with the back of his hand. 

“I was thinking that my pals, the Saporian separatists, could really use some of your tech. It would give us the edge in our war against Corona,” Andrew said, “That’s why I’m in here too, you know. War crimes against the monarchy.”

“Ugh. The monarchy,” Varian repeated hatefully, and a furious scowl twisted his boyish features for a moment as he thought about princess Rapunzel planning yet another of her lavish banquets, while his father lay encased in enchanted amber, possibly starving to death.

“The monarchy’s the worst,” Andrew said.

“I HATE the monarchy,” Varian agreed, touching bandages on his own gored back with cautious fingers. A sharp pain shot through him and he winced, withdrawing his hand quickly.

“You and me both, kid,” Andrew said, “I know you don’t feel too good right now, but after you heal up a bit, what do you say we break out of here and overthrow it?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Varian said. 

“With your stone golem army and my Saporian forces combined, we could lay siege to this entire kingdom, and ultimately rule in the monarchy’s place. I imagine the enchantments from your magic elixirs will be a priceless asset as well in the coup,” Andrew said.

“Ok, first of all, they weren’t stone golems, ok? They were robots. And, second of all, I didn’t ‘enchant’ those people with a ‘magic elixir’,” Varian informed him bluntly, “I drugged them. With drugs.” 

“Potatoe, po-tah-to, Varian. With your help, the wicked king’s control over this great land will finally come to an end.”

Varian’s face broke into a slightly mischievous bucktoothed smile and he said: “Hmm…well, I like the way that sounds Andrew, in fact I like it a lot.”

“We’re rain down fire and destruction, the likes of which this kingdom has never seen,” Andrew announced sinisterly, and in a gesture of comradely, extended his hand for Varian to shake.

“Agh…no, no. I don’t want to go in with brute force next time. Too many civilian casualties,” Varian said, hesitating a bit before shaking Andrew’s hand. Varian smoothed back his shaggy black hair and grinned nervously, “No, this time I’d like to try something a bit smarter.”

“Oh, yeah? What did you have in mind?” Andrew asked curiously. 

“Well…there’s no need to use violence at all…if, behind the scenes, the monarchy becomes a puppet government, which I control,” Varian said, still grinning, “I’ve been developing a special drug that causes memory loss and extreme suggestibility.”

“I like the way you think, kid,” Andrew said, “Man, you really earned your reputation, didn’t you?”

“Heh. Yeah. I guess I did, didn’t I? I guess it kind of sucks that I have a ‘reputation’ now, as you put it. But I was getting pretty fed up with being treated like a child anyway. I mean, I might look younger, but I’m not a child and I usually know what I’m talking about. It get’s pretty frustrating when you’re smartest guy in the room but nobody takes you seriously,” Varian said. 

“Respect, kid. I sure as hell couldn’t do some of the stuff that you do,” Andrew said, and then he ran a hand through his own long, dark hair vainly, “For the record, though, however you feel a bout it now, you’ll miss looking young when you get older. You should try to enjoy it while it lasts.” 

“I guess that’s a healthy way of looking at it,” Varian said. 

“So, how will you do it?” Andrew pressured, cutting straight to the point.

“What?”

“How will you drug the king and queen?” Andrew asked with baited breath. 

“Um…that’s a tricky one, isn’t it? I suppose I’d have to escape this cell long enough to gather the right ingredients, brew the drug and somehow introduce it to the royal’s drinking water…or something,” Varian said. 

“I take it you’re still working the particulars out,” Andrew said.

“It’s a work in progress,” Varian said. 

“Saporia’s memory wand would create the same effect, I imagine,” Andrew said.

“Saporia’s what now?” Varian repeated quizzically.

“The memory wand, it’s a magical artifact that steals people’s memories,” Andrew said.

“Sure…,” Varian replied skeptically, “But for the record ‘magic’ is just science that you don’t understand. If this memory wand that you’re talking about really works, then it must behave a little bit like the drug that I was talking about. Perhaps it releases a similar substance to the one that I’ve been experimenting with. Possibly...in a mist...when you touch it?”

Andrew shrugged and said: “How it works makes no difference to me, as long as the result is the same. Either way those royals will be totally wrecked and we can just swoop in and take over everything.”

“Heh, well…you’re a man of pragmatism, I see,” Varian said, “I can respect that. Let me worry about how it works. Your part in this will be rallying the support of those Saporian separatists. So…um…where are they, anyway?”

“There are a dozen or so of us being housed in the castle dungeons,” Andrew said, “I’ve been able to scope out the people who wear Saporia’s ceil as they get dragged in. When we escape, we should take my Saporian comrades with us. They might even the odds a little bit between us and the guards.”

“Good idea,” Varian said, as the pain of his injuries nagged for his attention once again, overriding the joy that he felt at the thought of getting his revenge against Corona, “But I’m…kinda’ not…feeling too good right now…In my current condition…I’ll probably slow you down. 

Andrew sighed and stretched his muscular arms as he collapsed onto the meager bed opposite Varian’s. Then said: “Well, I’ve waited this long.”

“Ughh…ouch…ow,” Varian moaned, laying down on his stomach again and shutting his eyes against the persistent searing sting of his punished back, “I’m sorry I can’t be more useful at the moment.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’ve been biding my time anyway. A friend of mine is searching for the memory wand as we speak. When she discovers it, she will travel to Corona and use it to free me,” Andrew informed Varian very confidently. 

To Varian, this escape plan did not seem very hopeful. Who was this friend of Andrew’s and how long would it take her to find this memory wand? And once she found the memory wand, would it even work? Would this mysterious person bother to travel back to Corona and free Andrew? Would she make it back to Corona if she tried even, or would Andrew’s mysterious friend fail them?

Though he had his doubts about Andrew’s escape plan, Varian did not speak them aloud. If this was the hope that Andrew was holding onto and what allowed him to carry on in spite of the abysmal circumstances, then Varian wasn’t about to try and spoil that with his unsettling doubts. 

Though it was nice to know that he would not be forced to suffer the crushing loneliness of total isolation during his imprisonment in the castle dungeons, Varian was already missing his perceived privacy. The pain from his recent flogging was so bad and he felt so hopeless and terrible about this whole situation that all he really wanted to do was fall to pieces and cry like a baby. But Varian fought the persistent urge to start sobbing again. It was probably not wise to display that kind of embarrassing weakness in front of another man, and, in particular, in front of another man whom he hoped would respect him as a partner in crime. 

Still, as night came and the day shift guards traded places with the night shift guards, Varian could not help but whimper into his pillow. The memory of his recent and humiliating public beating was still fresh in his mind, and playing behind his eyelids on repeat.


	4. Chapter 4

As Varian slept, he recalled a conversation that he had overheard between Rapunzel and Cassandra just a few days after the science fair.

In his memory, Varian watched the two women, from behind a large stone pillar, were he was hiding, holding a bouquet of flowers, which he had purchased for Cassandra earlier that day. He was planning to jump out and surprise her with them, but having some trouble working up the nerve. 

The princess and her hand maid were dressed in extravagant, poofy gowns as they were about to attend a royal ball in just a few hours. Rapunzel’s gown, of course, was exuberant and pink with golden yellow embroideries of flowers stitched into its hems. Casandra’s dress, on the other hand, was jet black and devoid of florals. It matched her curly dark hair and cynical world view perfectly. 

“Cassandra, you’re not wearing your purple necklace?” Rapunzel observed with surprise as the two were walking through the palace hallways together. 

Cassandra touched her bare neck with one hand contemplatively and then said:  
“Oh, you mean the one that that scrawny dork gave me at the science fair? Yea. I took it off.”

“You’re not wearing it to the royal ball, Cass?”

“No.”

“I think you should. It’ll look really pretty with your black dress. You know, add a little splash of color that will really pop!” Rapunzel insisted excitedly.

“No, I’m not going to wear it anymore. Varian’s got a crush on me and its giving him the wrong idea. Since the science fair, he’s been following me around everywhere like he thinks he’s my boyfriend. It’s really annoying. And creepy. So, I took it off,” Casandra said.

“Aww…Varian’s a really sweet guy. I think you should give him a chance,” Rapunzel said, getting that dreamy look in her eyes that she got when she talked about fairy tales and true love. 

“Raps, you’re doing that thing that you do again! Stay out of this!” Casandra groaned.

“I know, I know that I said I’d stay out of your business when it came to things like this but…you two just look so cute together!”

“Stop it Rapunzel.”

“You should go to the royal ball together!” Rapunzel exclaimed excitedly, her green eyes shining with girlish delight at the prospect, “Oh, and then you and Varian, and me and Eugene, can all go on couples dates together! That’ll be so much fun! Ooh, ooh, and then, when you two get married, DOUBLE FRIENDS WEDDING!”

“Rapunzel. NO.”

“But…our kids could play together…,” Rapunzel sighed, though slightly put out by Cassandra’s continued rejection of her vision for their future, it was not in her nature to give up easily.

“Oh, yeah my father would just looove that,” Cassandra growled, “If I gave up on trying to join the royal guard and instead became Mrs. Dorkface, and got all barefoot and pregnant, like a good little lady-in-waiting.”

“Ok, so maybe took it a teensy bit too far before. Maybe, just let him take you to the ball and then see where it goes from there? I mean, you don’t have a date yet, right?”

“I don’t need a date to have fun at a party, Rapunzel. And besides, going to the ball with Varian would be more embarrassing than going alone,” Cassandra muttered. 

“Why?”

“Rapunzel, he’s a head shorter than me. I would look RIDICULOUS.” 

“Aw, that’s not his fault. How about if you just go as friends?”

“Rapunzel I told you I’m not interested in Varian, ok? And I’m not taking him to the ball either. Like I said, it’ll give him the wrong idea,” Cassandra said.

“But Cassandra— ”

“Rapunzel, would you just drop it! He’s not my type, ok!”

“So, what is your type?” Rapunzel asked curiously.

Cassandra stopped and contemplated for a moment. Then said with the shadow of an enchanted grin as she imagined the man of her dreams: “You know, someone cool…and tall…and maybe just a little bit…bad.”

“Cassandra!” Rapunzel laughed.

“What, a girl can dream, right? I mean, I’m not completely heartless, Rupunzel. I think about finding that special guy who can sweep me off my feet sometimes, just like anybody else does,” Cassandra said and then her soft expression changed to one of tremendous annoyance, “…But Varian is NOT that guy.”

“Or…maybe….he really IS that guy,” Rapunzel pressured with a slightly teasing smile.

“Rapunzel, I didn’t want to have to say this, but you have pushed me to it. Ok? I would not date Varian if he were the LAST guy on earth!” Cassandra shouted in exasperation.

“Oh, lighten up, Cass. He’s, like, the sweetest, nicest guy ever,” Rapunzel defended him. 

“Yeah. Exactly. That’s the problem. He’s a short, little, clumsy, embarrassing, goody-two-shoes, loser, dork! He’s a dork! He’s a dork! He’s a dork, dork, DORK! And I might have made him run around and do all of my chores at the science fair, but that does NOT make him my boyfriend, got that? He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just a tool that I used to get something I wanted!” Cassandra shouted, breathing hard.

Cassandra could tell by the look on Rapunzel’s face that the message was finally getting through to her. 

“But don’t tell him I said that, ok?” Cassandra sighed in a slightly guilty way, as she regained her composure, “It would hurt his feelings.” 

Having overheard every word of this conversation, from his hiding place, behind the pillar, Varian fought back tears, and hung his head dejectedly. He felt very foolish now, dressed for the ball, in a red petticoat and pantaloons and holding a bouquet of flowers, which he had modified to glow blue in the candlelight. He flushed crimson with shame, feeling intensely stupid for having believed that Cassandra would return his feelings.

With his hopes of taking Cassandra to royal ball dashed, Varian trudged out of the castle. As he was leaving, he dumped the flowers that he had brought for her in the trash. 

Back in the present, Varian moaned and scratched at the bandages on his itchy, smarting back. He glanced across the cell, at Andrew’s bunk, and saw that the other man was still sleeping. He glanced through the bars of the cell and noticed that the night shift guards had not yet traded places with the day shift guards. 

The dim torch lights in the dark stone tunnel glowed like the sparks of severed robot wires, and Varian was reminded of the flames, which had engulfed the village during his rampage. He thought of Cassandra again. This time, she struggled and gasped for air as he pulled the lever in the control pit of his robotic suit. The robot’s giant hand tightened around her waist, and Varian scowled at her hatefully through the red windshield of the control pit.

Cassandra had just been “swept off her feet.” Literally. As far as Varian was concerned, revenge was best served ironic.

“Am I TALL enough for you now, Cassie?” Varian muttered to himself as Cassandra’s feet kicked over 12 feet of air that stood between her and the rocky ground. “Am I BAD enough for you?”

Varian was jarred out of his flashback by another jolt of pain. He whimpered and touched the bandages on his back with cautious fingers. 

“Ow, ow, ow…ow…ouch…,” he moaned into his pillow. Anger toward the villagers of Corona flooded him as he was assaulted by the familiar, searing ache of his punished back. 

Outside of his cell, he could hear two guards talking to each other.

“I tell you Pete, the princess wouldn’t approve of the way that King Fredrick handled this,” one of the guards insisted gruffly. 

“Well forgive him if he thought that a laundry list of treasonous infractions as serious as this one was deserving of a punishment more severe than the birch branch,” the other guard defended the king with sarcastic fever. 

“You know that the princess is an advocate for prisoner’s rights. She has always been opposed to these kinds of penalties being enforced. Can you imagine if they’d whipped Eugene? The princess would have blown her stack!”

Not wanting the guards to notice that he was awake, Varian stifled another moan and shut his eyes. He let their inane bickering wash over him, and tried not to think too hard about the fact that he was being talked about, not just here, but probably everywhere in Corona. He was infamous now. And people were going to have their opinions about him. 

Varian pushed these thoughts away, and tried not to listen to the two guards who were currently talking about him. Though, occasionally, little snippets of their conversation burst through his selective deafness. Phrases like: “He’s a rotten brat,” and “She’d throw him over her knee and paddle him with her frying pan!” penetrated his defenses. So he covered his head with his pillow to try and drown it out. 

In this state, sleep was elusive. So, Varian lay awake for hours, trying not to pay attention to the guards’ conversation about him. He consoled himself by imagining how he would make the people of Corona pay for turning their backs on himself and his father.


	5. Chapter 5

Days passed. Varian’s injuries were healing slowly, and he spent much of his time laying on his belly, moaning, while Andrew bragged about the charity organizations that he was supposedly involved in and the many books that he had supposedly read. Andrew painted himself as an altruist, and a glob-trotting scholar. The stories he told usually involved him flying his airship to impoverished kingdoms, where he would aid the poor and hungry by handing out gold coins and loaves of bred. 

“And so, there I was, on my way to fair Corona, where I would steal back the Saporian artifact that King Fredrick’s ancestors had stolen from our proud people,” Andrew illustrated for Varian dramatically, as he paced the cell, motioning vigorously with his hands. 

“Uh huh,” Varian moaned, feeling bored and not at all excited at the prospect of being subjected to yet another of Andrew’s long and self-glorifying stories. 

“The Book of Lovers, as it was once called, is now a part of Coronan tradition, and the traitorous Coronans make a mockery of The Saporians every year, during The Festival of Hearts, by displaying this stolen artifact publicly and encouraging lovers to sign their names in it,” Andrew said.

A guard walked over to their cell, holding a tray with two bowls of gruel on it. The guard slid the tray under the bars of the cell and said: “It’s dinner time, boys,” before walking away again. 

Varian lifted himself off of his meager bed slowly.

“No, don’t get up, Varian. I’ll get it for you,” Andrew said.

“Thanks, buddy,” Varian murmured gratefully and then he collapsed back onto his bed.

Andrew knelt down and picked up one of the bowls of gruel and a spoon. Then, he carried the food over to Varian and laid it down in front of him. Varian closed his eyes and second guessed his desire to eat, as he still felt very sick and this prison gruel was not exactly appetizing. 

“Come on, Varian. If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” Andrew sighed.

“Ok, fine,” Varian muttered reluctantly. With shaky hands, he lifted himself into a sitting position and took the bowl of gruel and the spoon as Andrew handed them to him. 

Varian began to eat, very slowly and unenthusiastically. Andrew resumed his story:  
“So anyway, as I was saying, at The Festival of Hearts, they display the book, right? So I flew my airship to Corona, in hopes of stealing this priceless artifact back for Saporia and returning it to its rightful people. They had it out on display, for the festival, so I scoped it out, and waited for an opportunity to snag it.”

Varian nodded politely, though, in truth, this story did not interest him much. He sipped a little bit of tasteless prison gruel from the spoon, and watched Andrew pace and gesture through puffy, blood-shot eyes. 

“That’s when I met her,” Andrew announced dramatically, “A very beautiful raven-haired girl with eyes like daggers, named Cassandra.”

Varian sucked down the remained of the gruel in his spoon, and nearly slurped down the spoon with it, choking spastically. He gasped and wheezed and cleared his throat. Then, asked very hastily for clarification: “Wait? The captain of the guard’s daughter, Cassandra? Cassandra?”

“The very same.”

Suddenly Varian become much more interested in Andrew's story. He watched with attentiveness as Andrew paced and gestured, now hanging on every word. 

“We really hit it off, me and Cassandra. She adored me right away and we spent our long evenings together, in my airship, touring the skies. When I departed, we exchanged frequent letters, in which she declared her undying love for me, and begged to know…when I would return to her at last.” 

“Wait, wait, WAIT? You DATED Cassandra?” Varian exclaimed in disbelief. In his estimation, she was far too perfect to be attainable by anyone. 

“Well, yeah, bro. Isn’t that what I just said?” Andrew confirmed, “She was madly in love with me, and together, we shouted our love from the rooftops.”

“Hold on, I KNOW Cassandra,” Varian challenged jovially. His face split into a wide grin and, for a moment, he forgot the pain of his injuries entirely, “And THAT…don’t sound like Cassandra.”

“I swear to you, Varian, every word is true,” Andrew proclaimed. 

The grin on Varian’s face widened, as he chose to accept Andrew’s story, in its entirety, as truth. 

“You have to tell me everything,” Varian said quickly, his eyes lighting up with boyish delight, as he anticipated living vicariously through Andrew’s tale, “Is it true that she can crack a watermelon between her thighs? How much can she bench press? What does her hair smell like?” 

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Andrew said.

“I wasn’t under the impression that we were gentlemen,” Varian retorted coyly.

“Ok, so her hair smelled like strawberries,” Andrew said.

“I knew it!”

“Though, of course, this tale ends with her betraying me. I am in here, after all,” Andrew said, spreading his arms wide to indicate the prison cell around them.

“Sounds about right. Cassandra’s the worst. Pretty. But the worst,” Varian commiserated, remembering the sting of her rejection with an uncomfortable pang in his chest. 

“Pretty girls usually are,” Andrew said, and then they both laughed.

When the laughter had died down, Andrew added a little bitterly: “The girl’s a spiteful shrew.”

“She is,” Varian confirmed, “I hate her stupid pretty face.”

“She’s dumb,” Andrew said.

“The dumbest,” Varian confirmed, “I hate her.”

“I hate her more,” Andrew said.

“I hate her the most,” Varian said quickly.

The two men laughed again, having forged some strong camaraderie over their mutual hatred for Cassandra. Varian slurped down another spoon of prison gruel, with far more enthusiasm than before. 

“She’s SO mean,” Varian piled on.

“As I’ve said, a spiteful shrew,” Andrew agreed.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Varian said, grinning, “Hey, this is fun. We should hate things together more often.”

“I hate the kingdom of Corona,” said Andrew.

“Oh, yeah, me too. And I hate the royal family too. They just think they’re sooo much better than everyone else,” said Varian, “But who decided THEY should rule. I sure didn’t.” 

“No one did. That’s why they’re royal,” Andrew confirmed with venom, “…And talk about that buffoon king, Fredrick…he’s a joke compared to noble and ancient kings of Old Saporia.”

“Yeah, I hate him,” Varian said, “Man, that feels good to say out loud.” 

“Yeah, well, what are they going to do about it? You’re already in prison right?” said Andrew.

“I hate prison,” said Varian, as he choked down another spoonful of tasteless gruel.

“Yeah, me too,” said Andrew, “But we won’t be in here long, kid. Something tells me…my friend is about to come through for us.”


	6. Chapter 6

That night, Varian could not sleep. He tried to sleep but the pain in his punished back kept forcing him awake. Again and again, he was reminded of humiliation he had suffered as a penalty for his crimes against the kingdom. He remembered the boos and jeers of the village people as he was stripped of his tunic and tied to the post at the center of town. He remembered the angry, amused, and disgusted faces, and the laughter at his expense. Shame flooded him like a toxic elixir each time he found himself recalling this traumatic event. 

Varian could not help but imagine how ashamed his father would be if he could see any of this. Varian imagined that same sad, stern, exhausted expression that his father had always worn, when he did something stupid or dangerous, looking down on him now. It made him feel so guilty and bad about himself, that he could not help but let out a small sob. 

As Varian lay wounded and quivering in the cold cell, a wave of despair washed over him and he began the weep quietly. He didn’t really care if the guards could hear or if Andrew could hear, he was just feeling like such a worthless piece of garbage that crying his eyes out was his only recourse. 

“Yo, Freckles! CAN IT!” a shrill, scratchy voice shouted. Clearly the voice was that of an elderly woman. 

Varian ignored the old crone and continued blubbering.

“Oh, man…it hurts….it huurts….whhy did I do it….,” Varian wept quietly into his pillow. 

“I SAID….CAN IT!” the old woman shouted again, and then she threw something at the bars of Varian’s cage. 

Varian lifted his head and watched as a short, squat old lady meandered into the light of the nearby torches. She grunted and glanced around a bit as though searching for the object that she had just thrown. 

“Andrew, ANDREW!” the old crone shrieked gracelessly.

Andrew jerked awake and sat bolt upright.

“Agh, Clementine!” Andrew grunted, pushing the disheveled long hair out of his face and walking over to the bars of the cage. 

“Find the wand of oblivion!” Clementine ordered with urgent gruffness.

“What? I’m supposed to find it? Weren’t you supposed to bring it?” Andrew retorted with exasperated confusion.

“No, I threw it!”

“What?”

“Don’t blame me. Blame Freckles over there! He was annoying me!” Clementine explained gruffly.

Varian sniffled and sat up slowly. He sobbed and winced, and covered his streaming red face in his hands.

“Shut up your little boyfriend! I memory wiped the guards but more might come if they hear that sniveling!” Clementine said urgently.

“Hey, leave Varian alone, ok? He’s been through a lot,” Andrew said. 

“Yeah, yeah, and you can buy him some flowers and chocolates after we get out of here. Just, find the wand!” Clementine hissed. 

Andrew and Varian got up and searched the prison cell floor for The Wand of Oblivion, while, outside of their cage, Clementine searched the dark tunnel. 

“I found it,” Andrew said after awhile. He held the wand up to the light and discovered that it had been snapped nearly in two, “Uh oh.” 

The top half of the wand now hung limply. The once powerful magical object, now felt hollow and lifeless. It radiated no heat, light, or dark presence.

“Great, what now?” Andrew muttered.

“Looks like you’re doomed,” Clementine pointed out bluntly.

Varian darted across the cell and wrested the broken object out of Andrew’s hands.

“It’s OK, it’s OK, you guys. I think I can fix it,” Varian said. 

“Pah, Freckles thinks he can fix it,” the old woman scoffed bluntly. 

Varian sat back down on his bunk and fiddled with the magical object a little bit. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes to magnify what he was looking at and discovered a network of minuscule silver gears inside the barrel of the weapon.

“I should get out of here before more guards come,” Clementine said, “We will think of something else, Andrew.”

“No, give him a chance to fix it. If half of the things that I’ve heard about him are true, then he should be able to,” Andrew insisted. 

“Don’t tell me that THIS is the fabled Dark Wizard, Varian?” Clementine gasped with disbelief. 

“He is, actually,” Andrew said.

“I’m not a wizard though, I’m an alchemist,” Varian corrected, as he forced a few of the severed gears in the wand back together, and they clicked. 

Clementine watched Varian with disbelief and a new level of respect as the small man quickly reassembled the broken device. When he was finished, he tore off a piece of his sleeve, and tied the two pieces of the wooden barrel back together. The wand of oblivion sprang to life. Its ghostly glow lit Varian’s grinning, bucktoothed face and blue eyes. 

Varian handed The Wand of Oblivion back to Clementine and announced his victory over the broken weapon with a celebratory: “Behold, the power of alchemy! No to shabby, huh?” 

“Ah, what a clever boy!” Clementine exclaimed with disbelief. 

Varian blushed slightly at the complement and grinned, running a hand through his shaggy hair nervously.

“Aw, thank you. You’re very sweet,” Varian said, “Do…do you have a hair pin on you, by any chance?”

“You haven’t got time to braid Andrew’s hair, Freckles,” the old woman croaked with irritation, removing one of the hair pins from her grey bun.

“No, no. I wasn’t going to,” Varian said, with a bemused smile. He took the hair pin out of Clementine’s hand, snapped it in half, and then, started picking the lock with it. Clementine and Andrew watched with urgent anticipation as Varian worked. Within a few seconds, he had managed to unlock the cage and push the door open. 

“The boy’s a freaky genius!” the old woman exclaimed as Varian and Andrew walked out of the now open cage. 

“Oh, heh. Thanks,” Varian replied, blushing. He glanced down at his feet for a moment and flashed her another bucktoothed smile. 

“Fortune has smiled upon us, Andrew. He will be indispensable to Saporia’s cause,” Clementine said with some reverence, as she lit the path that lay before them with the glow of her wand. 

Together, the three crept forward. Seeing that Varian was staggering, and wincing, and struggling to keep up, Andrew put an arm around the smaller man to steady him. Varian leaned into Andrew and let out a pained whimper as they trudged forward, in search of imprisoned Saporian separatists. 

“Hey you!” the harsh bark of an angry guard called out from the dark. “What are you doing out of your cell!”

Clementine, Andrew, and Varian spun around. A dozen or so castle guards in gold uniforms were now staring them down.


	7. Chapter 7

Clementine, Andrew, and Varian spun around. A dozen or so castle guards in gold uniforms were now staring them down. 

“Get back here!” One of the guards shouted angrily and the group of gold-armored guards rushed forward, wielding their weapon’s threateningly. 

Clementine, Andrew, and Varian turned and started running. The old woman darted forward with surprising speed, but Varian struggled. He felt ill and his vision blurred as the pain in his back flooded his tortured body and demanded him to stop running. Varian breathed hard and ran forward despite the screaming, nauseous pain that was begging him to stop and lie down. He could hear the clinking amour of the guards behind him. He could see the prisoners in passing cells, pressed up the bars of their cages, and watching the chase with extreme interest. 

Clementine turned back and shot one of the guards with a beam from her memory wand. The guard that was hit slowed to a stop and glanced around in confusion. 

Varian cringed and struggled forward, gasping with pain, he slowed slightly, and the approaching guards got almost within reach of him. Andrew grabbed Varian around his waist, threw the smaller man over his broad shoulder, and carried him as he ran. From this position, Varian could see the angry guards that were quickly gaining on them.

Clementine turned around and shot six or seven beams from the memory wand. Three or four hit their marks, and a section of their assailants feel off, slowing to a confused stop. 

“What…where I am…?” One of the guards gasped in confusion as he staggered around disorientedly.

“How did I get here!” Another guard exclaimed with incredulity. 

“Andrew, you go ahead!” Clementine shouted urgently, “I’ll hold them off!”

Andrew nodded, and then, raced forward, still carrying the injured Varian over his shoulder. Behind him, Clementine stood in front of the wall of guards and brandished her memory wand, striking several of her opponents with its beam. Varian shut his eyes to block out the sight of it. 

Andrew darted forward and up the steps, to the upper level of the castle. Here, the castle staff screamed when they saw him running past them, and panicked. Andrew ran past a maid, carrying a stack of clean dishes. She stumbled and the dishes all fell onto the ground and were smashed. 

Andrew put Varian down, and breathed hard, bending double and clutching his side. Varian glanced around worriedly. More castle guards were sure to come. 

The king and queen exited their chamber, escorted by two royal guards. Seeing that Varian and Andrew had escaped, the king pointed at them officially and shouted: “They’ve escaped! Get them!”

The guard on the left ran toward Varian and the guard on the right ran toward Andrew.

As the guards attacked, Andrew fought back violently, and easily overpowered his assailant, wresting the weapon from the guard’s hand, and then, clocking him over the head with it so that he was knocked out cold. 

Without his alchemy tricks, Varian was not a strong fighter. He struggled uselessly against the attacking guard, and threw a clumsy punch that was easily dodged. The guard rushed Varian, who was easily knocked off of his unsteady feet, and Varian hit the ground with an audible thud. The guard grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and forced him back to his feet. 

Seeing that Varian had been recaptured, Andrew rushed forward and grabbed the queen.

“Ariana!” the king shouted desperately, as Andrew took the sword that he had stolen from the guard and pressed it threateningly against the queen’s throat. 

“Come any closer and I swear to god, I’ll kill her!” Andrew threatened.

The king retreated, and put up his hands.

“Now tell your guard to let Varian go!” Andrew instructed, as he clutched the terrified queen close to his chest, and the sharp blade very close her trembling neck. 

“Ok, ok! Guard, I command you to release the prisoner!” The king ordered of his remaining guard.

“But, sir!”

“I said, do it!”

The guard did what he was instructed to and released Varian from his grip. Varian moved out of the guard’s reach, and stared down the king hatefully. Andrew grinned triumphantly, now very confident that the captive queen would be the bargaining chip that he needed to secure their release.


	8. Chapter 8

Andrew laughed villainously as the king’s love for his imperiled wife had now rendered him powerless. The king watched pleadingly as Andrew pressed the knife to Arianna’s throat. The queen’s green eyes bulged and she glanced nervously over at Varian, who was now standing behind the king, glowering hatefully. 

“Ok, I did what you asked. Now, release her,” the king said.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Andrew scoffed. 

After a few uncomfortable moments, Clementine emerged from the castle dungeons, branding The Wand of Oblivion. She walked over to the place where the king, Andrew, the queen, and Varian stood, locked in a silent stand off.

“Do it, Clementine. Knock their memories out. For Saporia,” Andrew ordered.

Clementine grinned wickedly and said: “My pleasure.”

There was a flash of light as the king and queen were struck by Clementine’s memory wipe. Andrew dropped his weapon and released the queen, as she blinked quizzically. She turned her head, glancing here and there, as if to determine who had dropped her into this odd point in time. The king wore a similarly confused expression, and he seemed to be struggling to understand the things that he was looking at. 

“What’s… happened to this guard?” the king inquired quizzically as he observed the fallen guard that Andrew had knocked unconscious. 

“I don’t know your majesty, um…he must have passed out from heat exhaustion, I was um, uh….escorting him to the castle medic, but um….,” Varian lied, his face turning beet red, as he grasped for an explanation that would not incriminate himself or Andrew, “Um…I got tired of dragging him so…I put him down for a moment and asked Andrew to help me.”

“Oh, what a good boy,” the king said to Varian very fondly, “And who is this Andrew person?”

“Oh, just a friend of mine,” Varian said, “He wanted a tour of the castle.”

“Ha ha, well welcome, Andrew! I trust you are enjoying your tour?” The king said, clapping Andrew on the back merrily. 

“I am, your majesty,” Andrew responded politely. 

“Hmm…yes, and what was Varian doing here, again?” the king asked very confusedly. He glanced over at his wife and the queen shrugged cluelessly.

“I’m uh…you’re most trusted adviser!” Varian lied quickly, “Don’t you remember?”

“Yes, dear I believe he’s always here,” the queen confirmed with a disoriented look on her face. 

“Ah, yes, yes! I remember now!” the king said, “Trusty Varian is such intelligent, promising young man…of such good moral fiber! It only makes sense that he handle a few things for me while I agh…sleep off this terrible migraine that I suddenly have! Haha!”

The king ushered Varian into his thrown room. Varian followed him nervously. Andrew and Clementine watched with mischievous grins as the brain damaged queen tripped over the hem of her long dress and cackled like a mad woman.

“Ooh, whoopsie!” the queen giggled as she lifted herself back off of the floor and followed her husband and Varian into the thrown room, along with Andrew and Clementine. Andrew and Clementine glanced at each other for a moment and smirked evilly. 

“Alright, son, here is my very important stack of royal degrees!” the king announced proudly, handing Varian a tall stack of papers and a red feathered quill, “I want you to read through them, proof read them, revise them as you see fit, and then have them notarized! I’m sure that a highly intelligent young man such as yourself will have no trouble with this task at all. Now, I must return to my chamber and sleep off this terrible headache. I am confident that I will be able to rest easy with this task in your capable hands.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Varian said with a bow, and the king exited the thrown room, along with his disoriented wife. 

Once the king and queen were gone, Andrew and Clementine cackled mischievously at their expense. Varian laughed in a nervous, relieved way. 

“Wow, that thing…really made them forget that they hate me,” Varian said with a grateful grin, touching his injured back gingerly with one hand as he sat down on the king’s thrown and started reading through the royal decree at the top of the stack.

“Yeah, he went right from ordering you flogged the street to basically handing over his entire kingdom to you,” Andrew celebrated, “I’ve gotta say, pal. I was not expecting this to work out so perfectly.”

As the hours passed, Varian read through the king’s stack of royal decrees. As he did so, Andrew and Clementine watched over his shoulder, and made their desires for New Saporia (as they would call it) known.


	9. Chapter 9

After a long day of rewriting Carona’s laws to suit his whims, Varian returned to his old lab, where he found his raccoon, Ruddiger, sleeping on a pile of experimental diagrams and research notes. 

“Buddy!” he exclaimed when he first laid eyes on his beloved pet, “You waited for me… didn’t you?”

Ruddiger sprang to life and ran an excited loop around Varian’s cluttered desk. 

Varian picked the furry gray creature up and wrapped it around his neck like a boa. Ruddiger licked one of Varian’s ears affectionately, causing him to giggle and smile warmly. 

“You missed me too, huh?” Varian said to the raccoon. 

Varian glanced over at the dark curtain, which he knew concealed his entombed father. The smile slipped off of his face, and for a moment, it looked like he might cry again. 

“You’ve been looking after him, haven’t you?” Varian said sadly to the raccoon. Ruddiger made a raccoony squeak as though to indicate that this was true. 

Varian inched his way around a few dark, jagged rocks and over to his bed, where he lay down on his belly and feel asleep with the raccoon on his head. 

The warmth of Ruddiger’s tiny body was a comfort to Varian as he slept. And so, for a time, all thoughts of the trauma that Varian had experienced were pushed from his mind. He thought only of his plans for Corona (which he had officially dubbed New Saporia) and of how he would enjoy his new position of power over the cruel village people. 

The village people had gawked, and laughed, and mocked him, while he was crying and in pain, and Varian would never forget that. The experience had left scars on his heart as well as his back. Varian could not help but smile as he dreamed of getting his sweet payback against the vile bullies who had delighted in torturing him so. He pictured the shoe maker, the physician, the candy store owner, and the woman with the smashed bake shop, stumbling around, confused and disoriented, as the king and queen had been after getting their memories wiped. 

“Oh, Varian! What’s happened? Help us!” villagers of Varian’s imagination cried. 

“I don’t remember the combination to my safe!” the candy store owner shouted in a panic.

“I don’t remember my own name!” the woman with the smashed bake shop exclaimed.

And in the midst of the confusion and the chaos, Varian imagined himself stand at the center of the village square and laugh and laugh until he had managed to laugh himself out. He imagined his tormentors forget how to walk, and then, crawl around on the ground, begging for his, Varian’s, help. They weren’t angry with him anymore. They trusted him. They respected him. And they looked to him for guidance with this crisis, for who could be in a better position to help them than the king’s trusted adviser?

Varian woke up in a much better mood than when he had fallen asleep. Ruddiger jumped out of his hair and Varian sat up, grinning. Feeling inspired, Varian walked to his desk, grabbed a quill and parchment, and then, quickly drafted a uniquely vindictive law, which would require the citizens of New Saporia to slave their days away, working in the mines.


	10. Chapter 10

As time went on, Varian’s injuries began to heal more completely. The slices in his back were starting to close and scar, and as a result Varian’s became much more active and mobile. 

Varian dressed himself in a long, black coat, put Ruddiger on his shoulder, and exited his lab. He walked to the empty village square, noting the pleasant silence left by the absent village people, with a satisfied smirk.

There was a light on in the cobbler’s shop. Varian’s smirk faded to a petulant scowl as he noticed it. It seemed the shoemaker, Feldspar, was not in the mines today. 

Varian entered the cobbler’s shop and the bell over the door jingled as he stepped inside. The shoemaker, who had been repairing the heel of a customer’s boot, stopped what he was doing abruptly as Varian entered. 

“Feldspar,” Varian addressed the skinny red-haired man with authority, “WHY are you not in the mines?”

“I have orders to fill, and no time at all for the silly business with the mines,” Feldspar retorted disrespectfully. 

“Feldspar, you have not made your weekly mining contribution. I should warn you that there will be financial penalties if you fall behind,” Varian threatened. He recalled that Feldspar had thrown a rock at him and jeered while he, Varian, was crying his eyes out and getting his back flayed. 

“Fine then, tax me if you must, you little snake,” Feldspar spat hatefully.

“I should warn you that repeated failure to make one’s weekly contributions will result in increased fines,” Varian growled with frustration, and then he grinned in a vindictive way and added teasingly, “Gee, it sure would be a shame if you lost this place because you couldn’t pay the rent anymore.” 

“Varian, you’re dirty scoundrel. And I’m not going to obey your ridiculous rules ANYMORE!” the shoemaker asserted boldly, slamming his hands down on the work desk in front of him. 

Varian glared at Feldspar. Then, smirked evilly, reached into his black coat, and withdrew a green vial. Feldspar gasped as Varian dumped the contents of the green vial out over the shoe that he was working on and melted it to liquid. A small hole was burned into the cobbler’s work desk, and what remained of the shoe’s laces curled and smoked. 

“Looks like your order is done,” Varian told the still-gasping shoemaker with a wicked grin. 

Varian observed at the distraught look on the cobbler’s face with satisfaction. Then, removed a second glass vile from the inside of his black coat, which he held out over a rack of newly cobbled shoes threateningly. 

“What do you say I customize the rest of your orders for you?” Varian teased, with a bucktoothed grin. 

“When princess Rapunzel gets back she’ll put an end to this, Varian. And then you’ll be VERY sorry!” Feldspar threatened furiously. 

Varian dumped the green liquid over the shoe rack, melting its contents beyond recognition, as Feldspar rage twitched visibly. 

“Whoops, looks like you don’t know when to shut your mouth,” Varian teased. 

“Varian, you—”

“I want you to think very carefully about how you finish that sentence, Feldspar,” Varian growled. 

“Varian, you, YOU….You’re absolutely right! I…I should be getting back to the mines now,” Feldspar simpered apologetically as Varian reached under his coat again, presumably for another alchemy potion that he might use to trash the cobbler’s shop. 

“Better hurry,” Varian said with a smirk. He watched with amusement as the cobbler fled his shop in a panic.

Varian exited the shop, and walked out into the quiet streets. As a woman with a small child saw him approach, she quickly crossed to the other side of the street in order to avoid him. The child looked frightened and held her mother’s hand tightly.

“Mama, I’m scared,” the child whimpered, as she glanced over at Varian with anxiety, “Is that the bad man…who makes you work in the mines?” 

“Hush now, child,” the woman said to her, and she broke into a sprint, pulling the small girl along with her. 

Seeing this, made Varian feel a little bit guilty about the way he was behaving. Since escaping from prison, he had taken it upon himself to act as though he owned this village, just as Andrew’s Saporian separatists now did. While in the company of the Saporian separatists, it was easy to feel entitled. They were a rowdy bunch, with a tendency to assert their authority over the people of New Saporia in passive aggressive, nasty ways. It was not usually in Varian’s nature to be needlessly cruel to people, but if he was being completely honest with himself, their attitude was a little contiguous. 

“It’s fine,” Varian thought to himself silently, “Once you get that memory tonic ready and add some to the drinking water, they’ll all forget what a jerk you’re being, and like you again.”

A group of people carrying buckets of green crystals, spotted Varian approaching and crossed the street to avoid him. They shot him apprehensive, hateful glances as he passed. Varian felt guilty again, and, for a moment attempted to reason himself out of his guilt.

“So, you trashed Feldspar’s shoes,” Varian thought to himself, “So what? He threw a rock at your head while you were being tortured. I mean…he missed. But should I really give him credit for that? And I’m not sorry I wrecked his shoes. No. Uh uh. I’m not sorry. He deserved it….Yeah, but I still feel bad about it…Shut up. No you don’t. As Andrew would say, Don’t be a doormat, Varian.” 

Varian stroked Ruddiger’s tail and pouted, still feeling guilty, despite his efforts to convince himself that he should not feel that way. The raccoon made a raccoony squeak and nuzzled itself tighter around Varian’s neck.

“Well…at least you still like me, Ruddiger,” Varian said to the raccoon out loud.


	11. Chapter 11

That night, Varian had a terrible dream. He groaned and flopped in his bed as the nightmare antagonized him, causing him to sweat, and shake, and wrestle with the blankets.

In his nightmare, Varian saw his father, who was now free from the amber, and furious with him.

“Son, you’ve brought shame on this family,” Varian’s father said, with a deep, cold, broken solemness, which shook Varian to his core.

“But Dad…I…I missed you so much,” Varian said sadly, attempting to hug his father. However, the larger man, turned away from him, and rebuked his touch with gruff indifference.

“Shame!” Varian’s father said again, pointing at him with an accusing finger, “Shame! Shame! Shame! SHAME!”

The ground underneath of Varian’s feet gave way and he plummeted straight down. There was fire all around him now as he fell, and he hit a red, stone floor. He stood up quickly and saw Clementine, dressed in a red gown and a pair of red devil horns. 

“You’re going to hell, Freckles,” the old woman croaked bluntly.

“What? B-but I don’t want to go to hell!” Varian blurted out indignantly.

“Well that’s TOO BAD!” Clementine shouted, “You were a bad boy and bad boys go to HELL!”

Varian was frightened, so he fell down on his knees at Clementine’s feet and begged for forgiveness: “Please don’t send me to hell! I’m a GOOD boy!”

“LIAR! To hell with you!” Clementine shouted as flames shot up all around them.

The ground opened up and Clementine vanished. In her place, emerged a girl with supernaturally long hair, who looked like Rapunzel. But something was very wrong with her. Instead of gold, the long tendrils of her supernatural hair were ink black. Her large eyes were empty, cold, black, frightening pits in her head. 

“Varian, you’re a rotten brat!” the Rapunzel of Varian’s nightmare bellowed. 

Varian cowered as her ink black tresses curled and tightened around his arms and legs like restraints. 

“I’m going to throw you over my knee and paddle you with my frying pan!” Rapunzel announced.

“B-but…that’ll hurt my bottom,” Varian protested lamely. 

The next thing he knew, he was bent over Rapunzel’s lap with his backside raised embarrassingly. The frightening black-eyed girl, raised her frying pan high, and brought it crashing down. Varian cringed and tried to pull away from the vicious arch of the heavy pan, but he was bound tightly in place by hair. A split second before the frying pan man contact with his chops, Varian jerked awake, breathing heavy and sweating profusely. 

He laughed a little bit at his own foolishness, and then, swiped a few sweaty strands of black hair out of his face.

“…Oh man, what a dumb dream…,” Varian, chided himself for getting upset by the nightmare. 

Rudigger squeaked in his sleep, and Varian petted the raccoon’ head pensively. The raccoon opened his eyes slowly as he was being petted. He stared at Varian with a raccoon’s level of comprehension. 

“Hey Ruddiger…do you think I’m…the bad guy?” Varian asked the raccoon, with a self-conscious cringe. Rudigar, did not answer, because he was a raccoon and did not understand English too well. “I mean…maybe I’ve been abusing my power…just a little bit…but that doesn’t make me the bad guy, right? I mean…they’re fine, everybody’s fine…and they deserve to be mistreated anyway…after what they did to me. And it’s not like I had them all hung or something…which is what they all deserve, anyway. What they did to me is WAY worse than what I did to them. Right? Ruddiger, am I right?”

The raccoon stared at Varian with a raccoon’s level of comprehension. Varian had not just mentioned the words “treat” or “outside” and in the absence of those words, the rest was just inane babble. All Ruddiger knew with certainty was that his boy seemed to be upset, so he crawled onto Varian’ lap and curled into a little grey ball. Varian stroked the racoon’s head worriedly and pouted. 

“Maybe…I could just reverse that mining law I wrote in. That one was just a little bit um…revenge-y. I guess, I wrote it to hurt people…and that’s a really bad reason to write a law. Oh man…what’s wrong with me anyway, Ruddiger….why do I do this kind of stuff?”

With that thought in mind, Varian resolved to speak to Andrew and the Saporians in the morning. He was sure that if he reasoned with Andrew, that he would agree to reverse the mining law, and perhaps even reimburse the citizens for some of their hard labor. The law currently gave 100% percent of the profits from this endeavor to Varian, Andrew, and a few of Andrew’s highest ranking friends. So, Varian reasoned, if that wealth were redistributed, it could be a very positive thing for the kingdom. 

Varian laid down again, and shut his eyes. Believing that, the next day, he would make amends for some of his wrongdoing, Varian sleep soundly until morning.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day, Varian went to the thrown room of the royal palace. Here, Andrew sat on the king’s thrown, while the king nursed yet another brain damage headache. A dark-skinned girl with long braids was sprawled seductively on the queen’s thrown, sharpening an axe. 

“Andrew, we need to talk,” Varian said urgently. 

Andrew nodded to indicate that Varian should proceed. The girl with the long braids, put her axe down and listened in with interest. 

“Andrew, I was thinking that…maybe that mining law I wrote in was…maybe not such a good idea?” Varian suggested timidly.

“Not such a good idea,” Andrew dismissed incredulously, “Varian, your mining law has made us all filthy stinking rich!”

“Yeah, I know…but the people labor in the mines for hours…without seeing any profits from the endeavor. Maybe we could…put some of that money back into the community, at least? Repair some roads maybe? Possibly reimburse people…just a little bit,” Varian suggested timidly. 

“Varian…buddy, you’re a really sweet guy,” Andrew sighed, “And you feel things deeply, I get that. But I’m NOT about to throw all of my money away because you got sentimental on me. The mining law stays the way it is. End of discussion.” 

Hearing his opinion concerning the subject be dismissed so immediately, Varian became very angry with Andrew.

“Andrew, we shouldn’t have done any of this!” Varian shouted guiltily, “The king and queen’s brains are hurt because you keep memory wiping them! The people are slaving away in the mines, while their businesses get taxed into bankruptcy! It makes me think that maybe…maybe it would be better for everybody if we just turned ourselves in!”

The girl with the long braids gawked at Varian like he was insane. Andrew glared at Varian and jumped down from the king’s thrown, so that they were closer to eye level. 

“Varian, I threatened the king’s wife and took over his kingdom! I would be HANGED!” Andrew shouted. 

Hearing this, and understanding that it was most likely true, made Varian second guess his perceived moral high ground. 

“Is that what you want, huh, Varian? Is that how little I mean to you? After the entire kingdom turned their backs on you, and beat you, and laughed at you, and threw you away, I was there for you! I was there for you when nobody else would be! And yet, you want to choose THEM over ME!”

“No…that’s not what I…no,” Varian retracted his previous statement uncertainly. 

“So go a head, Varian! I always knew that in the end you’d stab me in the back! Stab me in the back, Varian, just like everybody else does!” Andrew ranted furiously.

“No I just…maybe I could just say I worked alone,” Varian offered meekly.

“You want to turn yourself in, Varian? Huh? You sure you really want that? Well I’ve got news for you, little buddy. The king only spared your life the first time because you batted those big blue eyes at his daughter and she thought you were cute! You might not be so lucky next time, next time you’ll be hanged along side me!” Andrew shouted. 

Realizing that this was most likely true, Varian felt very foolish indeed and quickly retracted his previous statement: “I’m sorry, Andrew. I…I don’t know what I was thinking. I wouldn’t want us to be hanged. I’m sorry…I don’t know why I was being so stupid.” 

“It’s fine, Varian. It’s fine,” Andrew sighed, regaining his composure. He sat back down in the king’s thrown and stretched, “I can see that you’re still loyal to Saporia’s cause, and that’s good because we need you, friend. We need your freaky genius brain.”

“Oh…right…of course,” Varian agreed a little uncertainly. 

“You should get to work, mixing up some decent alchemy weapons for us there, short stuff!” the girl with the long braids interjected. She had resumed her axe sharpening activities and watched Varian with a look of distrustful suspicion from Andrew’s side. 

“She’s right, Varian. The word is, princess Rapunzel will be returning from her journey soon. If we’re going to defeat her in battle and maintain our control over the kingdom, we’ll need your weapons.” 

“Right, right,” Varian replied, fearfully. “I’ll…I’ll get started on those weapons right away.”

Varian left the royal palace and returned to his lab. Here, he could not help but fret about what might happen to him if Rapunzel and her friends were victorious in their battle against Andrew and the Saporians. Varina covered his eyes with his goggles and his nose and mouth with a red bandanna as he feverishly mixed chemicals. The chemicals produced copious fumes, which engulfed him as he worked. He mixed up a few test tubes and imagined what the penalty for his crimes might be if he, for some reason, failed to maintain power. Perhaps Varain would be hanged, perhaps he would be flogged again, or punished in some other harshly unpleasant way. Varian shuttered as these terrifying thoughts assaulted him, causing his hands to shake and his work to suffer. Not knowing exactly what might happen to him if the Saporian’s were not victorious, made the prospect of their possible defeat so much more frightening. And so, Varian swore off his doubts about Andrew’s true motivations, as well as his guilty feelings about everything that had happened to Corona because of him. 

He was ready to fight Rapunzel now, and to fight her with everything he had in him. He would show her no mercy. And he would hold nothing back.


End file.
